


Ave Satana, Baby!

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley live together and are very married, Aziraphale can be a little insensitive sometimes huh, Crowley has the same taste in games as a 45+ suburban mom, Duck-feeding, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy Eggs with a side of Humor Sausage, Goofin’ around, Humor, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 01:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Something disrupts Crowley's Candy Crush game streak. Aziraphale is responsible.





	Ave Satana, Baby!

Crowley had just reached level 421 of Candy Crush which he was playing on his phone in the living-room, when he caught something strange out of the corner of his eye. Part of it wasn’t strange, because he knew it was Aziraphale puttering about the house, but something was amiss with him the next time Crowley spotted him in his peripheral vision. 

Crowley looked up from his screen, though he was too slow because Aziraphale had already gone into the adjacent room. But then he heard a strange noise. Crowley could’ve sworn he’d heard the noise plenty of times before, he just couldn’t place it. 

“'Ziraphale?” 

“Hm?” Aziraphale answered from the other room, still just out of sight. 

“What are you doing right now?” 

“Just rearranging some books, dear. I think one of the lightbulbs are out too, I might check. Don’t mind me flicking the lights for a bit.” 

“Ngk.” Crowley replied, going back to his game. _He’s just holding some books, that was it._ It was going well for him in Candy Crush Land. He was really crushing it. 

But then sometime later, the angel walked through the door frame again, disappearing just as Crowley looked up, raising his suspicion again for some reason. He heard the weird noise as well, thinking it was a cat this time, but, no, still not it. Perhaps a mouse? No, too cooing. So a dove or pigeon? _Eugh_. Crowley slunk into his armchair again, going back to his game once more. The candies weren’t gonna crush themselves. 

But as his thumb hovered over his screen, Crowley thought that if he was too lazy to get up from his chair, then why didn’t he just turn it a bit? _Brilliant, Crowley_. The armchair creaked as it struggled to turn a few degrees, creasing the rug in the process. _Now I'll see exactly what’s going on next time he comes through here._ He patted himself on the shoulder. 

Minutes passed. Candy was crushed efficiently. But Aziraphale eventually turned up again by the threshold, and now, Crowley could strike. He whipped his head up, seeing at last what was going on. 

“Aziraphale..?” Crowley asked with some alarm. 

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale replied with total calm. 

“What are you holding?” 

“Hm?” The angel looked up at him, blank. He blinked, looked down at his cargo, then up. “Oh, this?” 

“Yeah. That.” 

“Uh, just a baby.” 

“A baby. A baby?” Crowley put his phone down. 

Said baby turned its over-sized head to look at Crowley. It cooed. _Ah, that’s what that sound was._

“Am I really supposed to ask you why you’ve got a baby on your arm?” 

“Well, you’re a free individual, you can do what you want.” 

“ _Angel_ _!_ ” 

“Well, ask?” 

“... Did you steal it?” 

“Goodness, no!” Aziraphale sparked a laughter. “No, dear, we’re babysitting this weekend for the Altimeters next door.” 

Crowley sputtered with frustration. “Didn’t think to tell me? Hel _lo_?” He frantically pointed to the ring on his finger. 

“I think I told you last week. Although...” Aziraphale took a thinking break while the baby chewed on his lapels. “It might’ve slipped my mind. But I’ve had little Norman here with me since this morning, how did you not notice ‘till now?” 

Crowley was about to get upset over the betrayal of it all, but his accusatory finger lowered as Aziraphale finished his sentence. “I was doing stuff. Busy.” 

“Playing Bejeweled for six hours straight?” 

“ _No._ I was doing my taxes.” Crowley slunk deeper into his chair. 

“Well, I was thinking of going for a walk with Norman. Show him how to feed the ducks and such. And if you want a break from … Doing your taxes, then we’d love to have you with us.” 

Crowley had a sorry look about him. “Ngk.” He finally got out of his chair, grabbing his sunglasses on the way up, then Aziraphale’s outstretched hand. 

\- 

Of course the ducks went batshit whenever they spotted the color-scheme of Aziraphale and Crowley approaching; black and white meant floods of bread. Magical amounts of bread. Almost as if the one in white was parting one loaf and turning it into two loaves as big as the first. 

Crowley was sprawled on the park bench. He was distracted by constantly glancing to his left, as the gray pram was caught in the corner of his eye, disturbing him with its foreign quality. After Norman had enjoyed the sound and sight of dozens of ducks and a few swans devouring a literally endless amount of bread, he fell asleep on Aziraphale’s arm and was laid back into said pram. Aziraphale was now sitting back as well, basking in the sun. He turned to face the jittery Crowley. 

“What’s making you so uneasy, my dear?” 

Crowley blew air between his lips dismissively. “Nothin’. I just... Uh, can’t get those taxes out of my head.” 

“Look, I’m sorry Norman came as a bit of a surprise for you. But look at him...” Aziraphale peered into the cocoon of the pram where Norman was perfectly swaddled. “He’s been such a good sport so far. Why is he making you anxious?” 

Crowley stopped bouncing his leg at the accusation. “He — I —” Crowley gave up. “I don’t exactly have the best track-record with infants, remember?” 

Aziraphale shook a crumb out of his sleeve. “That was only one time.” 

“Yeah, well, I could mess up again, then!” 

“I really don’t think you will. Besides, Norman isn’t the Antichrist this time.” 

Crowley made a vague face at nothing in particular. 

Aziraphale tried to get eye-contact back. “Despite your job-motive, you were quite good with Warlock back in the day. An excellent nanny if I should say so myself.” 

“... You’re just saying that because you love me. Doting oaf, you are.” Crowley sulked. 

Aziraphale took a hand from Crowley’s crossed arms. “I am. A doting oaf, that is.” 

In that moment, the cooing sound started up from the pram. Aziraphale got up with a smile, cooing back. He lifted Norman up into his arms, bringing him to the bench. 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale bouncing Norman in his grasp happily. “How did you get so good at child-stuff?” 

“Not the first time I’m holding a baby, Crowley. You get good at it after a few hundred babies.” Norman’s fussing ceased as Aziraphale made a funny face at him. “What, have you never held a baby?” 

"Nah, actually not ever. Kids and parents don’t like adults that either look like an anti-authoritarian or the village witch.” 

“Oh. Well, then, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Aziraphale stretched his arm out to Crowley, holding Norman out for him to take. 

Crowley knew in his little demonic heart that he was doing it for the angel’s sake. Because he too was a bit of a doting oaf deep down. He received Norman, holding him under his shoulders before cautiously embracing him to his chest. Aziraphale was beaming with pride. 

A minute or so later, Crowley found the weight in his arms not too heavy a burden anymore. Aziraphale reached over to adjust Norman’s little beanie which had slipped a bit in his sleep. “There we go, back to looking your handsomest, brave little Norman – are you the bravest little human in existence? Are you?” 

“Why are you asking him questions, he can’t exactly reply, can he?” 

“In six thousand years, every parent I have seen does this. Besides, it’s just a bit of fun. Isn't it, Norman?” Aziraphale grinned like an idiot. “Try it, dear. Just say what’s on your mind.” 

Crowley looked at Norman, who was toothlessly chewing on his fingers. “Alright. Norman. Little... guy. What're you gonna grow up to be, huh? You wanna be a – an ice cream salesman? Is that a job? Or... An … accountant?” _You could do my ‘taxes’ for a start, Norman._

Norman was distracted by some punk kids walking by, their colorful, yet dark, appearance sticking out in the park-goer crowd. Crowley looked back to him. “Oh, you wanna be a Satanist maybe? A worshipper of our Dark Lord?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. “Crowley –” 

“Can you say ‘hail Satan’? Can you say ‘praise be Lucifer’? ‘Praise be Lucifer’? Attaboy.” Norman was giggling. Aziraphale had the horrified look of a parent watching a stranger hand their child a box of matches. “I think that’s enough talking, dear. Please.” 

Crowley didn’t pay him any mind. He instead started to hiss a snake-lullaby until Aziraphale shut that down as well. Then he manifested a toy duckie for Norman to chew on instead of his own hand. _That_ , Aziraphale _did_ like. 

\- 

The following week, Crowley overheard Aziraphale on the phone with the Altimeters. The angel sounded jittery and apologetic. When he hung up, the demon heard him beeline for Crowley. He was playing Peggle on his laptop in the living-room, finding it very soothing. 

“I’ve just gotten off the phone with the Altimeters.” 

“Oh, lovely – did you thank them for letting us hang out with little Norman?” 

“I did. But they also told me something … unfortunate.” 

Crowley looked up from his game. “Yes?” 

“Well, Norman spoke his first words yesterday. A joyous occasion in every parent’s life.” 

“Sounds joyous.” 

“Well, so it would’ve been if Norman’s first words weren’t ‘Ave Satana’.” 

“Oh, he’s gonna grow up to be a scholar!” Crowley beamed. 

“ _Crowley_ , the Altimeters do know how to google things!” 

“What? The lad was clearly not grasping the English language, I thought it’d be more subtle to go the Latin route.” 

Aziraphale stared at Crowley as if to say ‘look what you did. You messed up a perfectly good kid is what you did’. 

Crowley dismissed it. “Eh, he’s gonna be fine, angel. If not, you’ll just have to step in and even him out with some of your goodness.” 

Aziraphale sighed. “And so, history repeats itself.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in just the goofiest mood these days 
> 
> 'Ave Satana' of course means 'hail Satan', just to be clear.
> 
> Also: ‘Norman Altimeter’ is a joke-pun I’ve lifted from the excellent Cabin Pressure radio sitcom, though I’ve tweaked it; an altimeter is an instrument on an airplane and since there is always more than one altimeter in a plane, they become the Altimeters, which sounds vaguely like a middle-class British couple(it was funnier the way John Finnemore wrote the joke, I know). So what should an altimeter be? Normal, of course. ‘Normal’ kinda sounds like Norman. Okay, that’s enough. 
> 
> I'm also thinking of making some fanart of Crowley reading from a Satanist manifest to poor little Norman. Stay tuned. 
> 
> As always, comment if you like, I love reading comments with input or just whatever's on your mind.


End file.
